The Thin Man
by Increasing Paranoia
Summary: Axel, a retired detective, and Roxas, his husband, are visiting New York for Christmas when a string of murders take place. The suspect is a man that nobody has seen for three months. Roxas wants Axel to take the case. Axel just wants another drink. A retelling of the 1934 film staring William Powell and Myrna Loy.
1. The Backstory

An elderly gentleman was working in his shop. He walked forwards and backwards, moving his machine closer and farther from the heat in even steps. So intense was his concentration that he did not hear his assistant calling his name.

"Your daughter's here, Mr. Wynant." The assistant received no response. He shut the door and moved closer to the gentleman. "Mr. Wynant?" Again, no response. He stepped closer to the edge of the platform and called again, tapping the man's shoulder. "Mr. Wynant?!" The man startled, dropping his machine.

"Haven't you got any more sense than to shout at me like that?" he demanded.

"I'm sorry, but-" But Wynant didn't want to hear excuses.

"Two weeks work gone for nothing!" he continued, ignoring his assistant's apologies.

"But I just wanted to tell you-"

"I don't care what you wanted to tell me! Get your things, get out, you're through! Get out!"

"Yes, sir, I'm going, I'm going." The assistant assured, backing away from the angry man.

"Get out!" Wynant shouted again. "It's a good thing I'm going away. No peace, no quiet," he muttered to himself, picking his broken machine up off the floor. His assistant didn't respond, moving to the door. "Everybody interrupting me." The assistant opened the door and a young woman and gentleman bounded through.

"Can I come in? Did you tell him?" she asked, not waiting to hear the response. She was a young woman about mid-twenties with her dark hair cut in a bob.

"I didn't get a chance," he answered, more to the young gentleman following her. She skipped down the steps, all but jumping on Wynant and kissed his cheek.

"Dad!" she greeted happily, kissing his cheek.

"Now, why didn't somebody tell me you were here?" he chuckled.

"Aw, I'm sorry to interrupt your work, darling. Look at you. But this _really_ is important." She stated, digging in her purse.

"How are you?" The young man greeted, his hat held nervously in his hands.

"Oh, another young man?" he asked his daughter as she wiped dirt off his face with her handkerchief.

"It's the same one," the man laughed. Wynant's daughter giggled.

"It's been the same one for _three months_."

"Oooh, forgive me. How are you?" he asked, shaking the man's hand.

"How do you do?"

"Now take a good look at him, Dad," she teased, grabbing both her father's shoulders. "Try to remember him...because...he's going to be your son-in-law."

"Ohh, wellll," he stated, cleaning his glasses with a handkerchief.

"That is, if it's alright with you, sir," he said, smiling.

"And if it isn't?"

"He's still going to be your son-in-law," Wynant's daughter answered, laughing. Wynant put his glasses back on, crossing his arms.

"You see how much _we_ have to say." he joked.

"But, Dad," she stated, pulling the lapel of his jacket. "This is _really_ what I wanted to talk to you about." Her fiance took the hint.

"Oh, well do you mind if I look around?" he asked.

"No, help yourself. Tom, show this... Uh, say where are you going?" he asked. Tom, his assistant, had gathered his belongings and was heading out the door.

"Home," he stated.

"Home?" Wynant asked.

"I'm fired.

"Who fired you?"

"You did." His daughter laughed as Wynant chuckled himself.

"Say, forget it. _Forget_ it. Will you show this gentleman around?"

"Yes, sir, right this way, sir." Tom beckoned the young gentleman.

"Thank you," he said, giving a short bow to Wynant and following the assistant. Wynant's daughter turned back to her father, scooting closer and throwing her arm around his neck.

"Dad, Mother's planning on a big church wedding," she sulked.

"Yeah, she would." Wynant stated, removing his glasses to clean them again.

"Oh, I hate all that fuss. But I'll do it on one condition. That you're there to give me away, darling." She stated, hugging him and giving him a slight shake.

"What would your mother say to that?" Wynant asked, chuckling.

"Well, it's my wedding, isn't it?"

"Yes, but wouldn't it be embarrassing, all of us there...your mother, me, your stepfather?" he asked, tucking his glasses into the inside pocket of his glasses.

"Oh, he can stay home. Please, daddy, won't you?" she smiled.

"Well, if you think it'd be alright," he agreed.

"Oh, you're a lamb!" she shouted happily, embracing him in another hug.

"Now wait a minute, wait a minute!" he cried, pulling out of her embrace. "Now when's it going to be? I'm leaving town tonight."

"Where are you going?" she asked, surprised at the news.

"That's a secret. I can't even tell you, my dear. I've got an important idea to work on."

"What is it, a new invention?" she asked excitedly.

"Yes, and I don't want somebody to steal it from me."

"Aw, but we were planning on being married right after Christmas." she pouted.

"Oh, I'll be home before Christmas," he assured.

"Is it a promise?"

"That's a promise I _won't_ forget." he promised, tapping her underneath her chin.

"All right!" she cried, kissing the side of his head.

"Where's MacCaulay, it's time I started. Oh, how's your brother?"

"Oh, he's alright," she answered, enthusiasm obviously curbed.

"I'd like to see him. Why don't you bring him down?" Wynant asked.

"Oh, well you know how it is, daddy. He's sort of under Mother's thumb." she stated, hand resting on his shoulder.

"Yes, I know."

"You're not missing much. He's cuckoo," she stated, trying to cheer him up.

"Like all the rest of us?" he asked. She chuckled. "Say, has this fellow -" he cut off, glancing to see where Tom and the young gentleman were. "Has he seen the whole family?" he asked.

"Yes, and he _still_ wants to marry me," she laughed.

"He's a brave man."

"Yes," she nodded, both of them laughing.

"Thanks a lot, old man. You certainly have an interesting plant here," the young man stated, rejoining his fiance and future father-in-law.

"Didn't I tell you?" she said.

"I didn't know that you invented that smelting process, Mr. Wynant."

"Look, this is the first metal that came through," she explained, grabbing her father's watch chain. "Three kinds of ore: gold, silver, copper." She stated, pointing to each on in turn. The young man took it from her hand, pulling it in for a closer look.

"Well, isn't that interesting," he stated. The young girl's attention was turned to her father. Wynant had placed his right leg on a low table, rubbing at his shin.

"Oh, Daddy, does that still bother you?" she asked sadly.

"Only in bad weather," he assured.

"But it isn't bad weather now!"

"Well, you better get home before it is," he stated, placing his leg back on the ground.

"All right," She stated, grabbing his face. "Good-bye, darling and don't forget, the thirtieth of December!" She kissed both his cheeks, and Wynant turned to his future son-in-law.

"Good-bye, boy," he stated, shaking his hand.

"Good-bye."

"Take good care of Dorothy," Wynant instructed, walking them to the door. "Show her that there is such a thing as a happy marriage."

"I'll do my best," he assured as he and Dorothy were ushered through the door.

"Good-bye, sweetie," Dorothy called over her shoulder.

"Good-bye, dear," Wynant responded as the door swung shut.

"Is it all settled?" he asked. Dorothy hummed her response. "Grand. Say, why did your mother divorce him? I think he's swell!"

"Well, it seems he has a secretary," she explained.

"Oh, well I'll do my _own_ typing." he stated as they climbed the stairs. As they opened the door, a flurry of snowflakes greeted them.

"Oh, Dad's a good barometer!" Dorothy joked. "Here's a taxi." They scurried down the steps, and Dorothy pushed underneath a black umbrella. "Hello, Mr. MacCaulay." she greeted.

"Oh, how are you? Here, get under this," he stated, offering his umbrella.

"No, no, we're taking your cab," she responded, ducking inside and pulling her fiance after her.

"Is your father still in there?" MacCaulay asked.

"Yes, he's waiting for you."

"Did he tell you where he was going?"

"He wouldn't say." MacCaulay shook his head in exasperation.

"Well, goodbye Miss Wynant," he stated, shutting the door and going to retrieve his change.

"Here's your change, boss," the driver stated, handing over the money.

"You wouldn't drive slowly, so you don't get a tip." MacCaulay stated.

"That's okay, sweetheart, I got it anyway," the driver stated, pulling away. MacCaulay looked at the money in his hand, realizing that he hadn't received the correct change. Annoyed, he entered the shop. He was just heading to the invention room when he crossed Wynant.

"Oh, Mr. Wynant."

"Hello, there. Did you get my money?" Wynant asked, pushing the button for the elevator.

"I do wish you'd tell me where you're going," MacCaulay complained, pulling his wallet from his inside pocket.

"I'm not telling anyone."

"Suppose some business should come up?" he pressed, opening his wallet.

"That's _just why_ I'm going." Wynant stated, holding his hand out for the money.

"There's one hundred, two hundred, three hundred..." he stated, counting the bills into Wynant's hand.

"Oh, here, nevermind," Wynant stated, pulling the money from MacCaulay's hand.

"Oh, I wish you'd count it. There's a thousand dollars there."

"I trust you," he stated, straightening out the money before shoving it into his pocket.

"Is there anything else I can do for you?" MacCaulay asked. "Have you bought your ticket?"

"No."

"Well, let me do _that_ for you."

"Yeah, you might do that. You might get me a ticket for..." MacCaulay leaned forward, but Wynant cut off. He smiled and gave a small puff of amusement. "No you don't." he stated, entering the elevator. "Thanks and good-bye."

"Well, what'll I do if something comes up?" MacCaulay asked.

"Settle it yourself. What have I got a lawyer for?" Wynant asked as the elevator began to rise.

"Is Julia going with you?"

"No."

"Well what if you need more money?" MacCaulay asked.

"I left instructions with Julia. She'll get it from you. Good-bye."

"Well, you don't tell me a thing. I don't know where you're going. I don't know when you're coming back. I don't know how to reach you if any business comes up!" MacCaulay shouted, but the elevator was already halfway to the second floor and Wynant could no longer here the shouting of his lawyer. MacCaulay shook his head and headed toward the door.

On the second floor, Wynant entered his office. "Hello, Tanner." he stated, greeting the old bookkeeper. He barely paused before heading to the safe. Tanner returned his greeting. "My daughter's going to be married, Tanner." he continued, putting on his glasses and bending down. "Nice young man. She just brought him in." Tanner paused in his bookkeeping looking nervously at his boss.

"Well, congratulations." He turned back to the books, but he wasn't working.

"I'm going to make her a wedding present. Thought I better do it now, before I forget it," Wynant stated, pulling a metal box out of the safe. He set it on his desk, swinging the lid open. "I can drop them on the way -" he cut off, staring into the box. Tanner watched him out of the corner of his eye. "That's funny," Wynant muttered. He took his glasses off before striding across the room. "Where are those bonds?" he demanded.

"Bonds, sir?" Tanner asked, standing and leaving his desk.

"I know I put them in there," Wynant stated angrily.

"Maybe Miss Wolf has them, sir."

"Yes..." Wynant stated, folding his glasses and putting them into their case. "...maybe she has."

* * *

"Joe?" a woman called.

"Yeah?" the man responded, flipping through a fashion magazine.

"How do you like yours?"

"Straight." He stopped at a certain picture in the magazine - two women were modelling the latest fashion - and held it up to see it in a better light. "You women sure take a lot of punishment." he stated. He stood quickly, dropping the magazine as he heard the apartment door opening. Wynant stood inside the door, staring at Joe. "You're in the wrong place, buddy." Joe informed him.

"Am I?"

"What's on your mind? What do you want?"

"Who is it, Joe?" the woman called, exiting the kitchen. She had short blond hair cut short - as was the style of the thirties.

"That's what I want to know," he answered.

"We're just having a little drink," she stated to Wynant.

"Yeah, so I see."

"Well," she gave a small, awkward laugh. "See you later, Joe." She nodded her head, and Joe took the hint.

"Sorry. Didn't know I was talking to the boyfriend," he stated, picking up his jacket and swinging it on as he walked to the door. "So long."

"So long, Joe."

"Who's that man?" Wynant demanded as soon as the door shut.

"He isn't anybody. Just a fellow I used to know."

"I thought you'd given up that sort of friend."

"Why, it's the first time I've seen him in years," she stated easily. "I didn't want him to think I was high-hatting him."

"You know how I feel about that sort of thing."

"Don't worry. You won't see him again. Tell me, did you change your mind about going?"

"No, I just came back for a second. I want to get those...bonds."

"Bonds?" she asked, a trace of nervousness showing. "What bonds?" she asked, sitting down onto the couch.

"The government bonds. The ones you took from the office safe," he stated as she readjusted herself on the cushions.

"Oh...oh, yes," she stated, recovering herself. "You told me to sell those a long time ago."

"I'd never tell you to sell those. I bought those for my daughter." he argued.

"But don't you remember-"

"Now see here, Julia," he cut her off. "You're counting too much on my absent-mindedness. You've been taking a little here and there for some time without my saying anything about it. But this is fifty thousand dollars.

"Do you realize you're accusing me of -" she stated angrily, rising from the couch.

"No one else had the combination of that safe," he continued, talking over her. "You took them. What did you do with them?"

"What if I _did_ take them?" she demanded. "I'm sick and tired of seeing you hand out thousands of dollars to that family of yours."

"That's _my_ business."

"And supporting a gang of loafers who don't care a darn about you," she continued, her feelings pouring out and she began pacing, moving around to the back of the sofa. "A wife that kicked you out the first time your foot slipped. Not one of them would raise a hand to help you. And I've given my whole life to you. If you kicked off tomorrow, where would I be?" she demanded, striding back to Wynant. "Out in the gutter. Certainly I took those bonds, who has a better right?"

"I want that money right now or I'll hand you over to the police," Wynant stated. His posture remained the same, his hands shoved in his trouser pockets, but his voice betrayed his barely concealed anger.

"Go ahead!" Julia challenged.

"They'll be pretty rough with you, with your record," he stated, crossing the living room and dialing the rotary phone.

"That's a fine thing to say to me after what I've been to you!"

"Hello! Give me-" Wynant began. Julia pushed the cradle down, disconnecting the call. Wynant looked at her, seeing the defeat on her face. He placed the phone back in the cradle, chuckling. "Well?" There was a pause, and Wynant stood up, towering over Julia.

"All right," she agreed, not looking at him. "I'll give it to you. Twenty-five thousand, that's all I've got."

"You're going to return every cent of it." he ordered.

"I can't! I haven't got it!"

"What did you do with the rest?"

"I never had it!" she confessed.

"Then there was someone in with you! Who was it?" he demanded, moving forward as Julia moved backward. The phone rang in the background. "Who WAS it?!" Julia moved to answer the phone but Wynant blocked her. "I'll answer that." He crossed the room and picked up the receiver. "Hello? Hello? Hello?!" The caller hung up without saying anything and Wynant set the phone back in the cradle. He grabbed his jacket off the back of the couch. "You don't need to tell me." he told Julia, his jacket halfway on. "I have a pretty good idea." He grabbed his hat and turned toward the door.

"What are you going to do?" Julia demanded. Wynant turned, and a cruel grin crossed his features. Julia backed away from him, horrified. Wynant left the apartment and exited the building, walking down the street in the darkness of the night.

~Review~


	2. Meet the Charles'

Lively swing music was playing, and numerous couples were dancing happily on the floor. Dorothy Wynant was not one of them. Her fiance spun her, trying to talk her out of her depression. "Stop worrying about your father. He'll turn up alright," he assured her.

"Aw, yes but, Tommy, today's Christmas eve." she stated.

"He's just forgotten," Tommy soothed. "You know how he forgets everything."

"No, he never forgets a promise to me. I'm worried. I know something's happened to him."

"What _could_ happen to him, darling? Now, will you stop worrying?"

"Oh, all right." she said, a small smile finally appearing on her lips. Tommy smiled and swung her back onto the dance floor. At the bar, a tall man with bright red hair was shaking a cocktail and instructing the bartenders.

"You see, the important thing is the rhythm. _Always_ have rhythm in your shaking. On a Manhattan, you shake to a fox trot; a Bronx to a two-step time," he explained, pouring the martini into a glass. "A dry martini you _always_ shake to waltzes," he finished, picking up the glass and setting it on the waiter's tray. The waiter straightened his back before turning and presenting the glass to the speaker. He took the presented glass, lifting it to his mouth and drinking it. Across the floor, Dorothy caught sight of him.

"What is it?" Tommy asked.

"Just a minute," Dorothy answered, making her way to the bar. The red-haired man placed his empty martini glass on the tray and turned back to the bar.

"Now mind you, there's a still more modern trend i...uh, uhm... Let me have that." He stated, reaching for the nuts. "Thank you. Certain people have..." he began, turning away from the bar. He cut off as his personal space was invaded by Dorothy.

"Hello, there." she greeted.

"Hello," he replied. "Uh, another glass," he told the bartender. "How are you?" he asked Dorothy, popping a nut into his mouth.

"You know, we _do_ know each other." She informed him.

"Well, of course we do," he stated with his mouth full. "We've known each other for _years_."

"Aren't you Axel Charles?"

"Yes."

"You don't remember me," she stated easily. "I'm Dorothy Wynant." Axel paused.

"Not that scrawny, little bit of -"

"Yes." she laughed.

"Well, how'd you ever remember me?" Axel asked.

"Oh, you used to fascinate me, a real live detective. You used to tell me the most wonderful stories. Were they true?"

"Probably not." he stated easily. Dorothy laughed before turning and motioning Tommy over.

"Tommy, this is Axel Charles."

"Hi, Tommy."

"How do you do?" he asked, shaking Axel's hand.

"Have another glass," Axel told the bartender.

"He once worked on a case for my father," Dorothy explained.

"Yeah, some nut wanted to kill him." he told Tommy. "How is your father?"

"Oh, that's what I came to ask you. He's disappeared," she stated.

"Now don't say that, darling," Tommy stated, moving behind her and grabbing her shoulders. "He's just away somewhere working," he told Axel.

"Well I can't find him. I've tried everything," she argued. "I thought you might know," she told Axel softly.

"I don't know anything. I've been in California for the last four years. So what about his lawyer? Used to be some bird by the name of...Mac...uh..."

"Oh, MacCaulay?" Dorothy asked.

"Herbert MacCaulay," Axel agreed.

"Well...I tried him once..."

"Why don't you try him again?" Axel asked.

"Here's a nickel," Tommy stated, pulling change out of his trouser pocket.

"Thank you," she stated, taking the change from Tommy. "I'll be right back," she stated, hurrying away.

"You know, she's got me worrying, too," Tommy confessed as Axel poured himself another martini from the bar.

"Oh, you mustn't worry about him," Axel stated. "Mind you, he's a great guy, but screwy," he finished, tapping the side of his forehead.

In the lobby, a commotion was taking place. A petite blond - arms laden with Christmas presents - was being dragged across the floor by a small wire fox terrier. "Asta! Asta!" the man shouted, unable to stop the dog, who was straining against his leash with all his might. Christmas presents began falling to the floor.

"Sir, I'm very sorry, but no dogs," one of the workers informed the man. "You cannot take your dog in there!" The worker shouted as the dog dragged the man into the bar.

"I'm not taking _him_, he's taking _me_!" Finally overbalanced, the man fell to the floor, Christmas presents sliding every which way. Two workers rushed to help the small man up.

"Are you hurt, sir?"

"Nooo," he stated, standing. "Women and children first, boys," he joked.

"Say, what is the score, anyway?" Axel asked, holding Asta in his arms.

"Oh, so it's _you_ he was after!" The small blond left the workers to gather the presents.

"Hello, sugar," Axel greeted.

"He's dragged me into every gin mill on the block." he informed Axel, ignoring the greeting.

"Yeah, I had him out this morning."

"Mm, I thought so."

"Oh, uh, this is Tommy," Axel stated, remembering his guest. "Uh, my husband." he introduced.

"How do you do," Tommy greeted, nodding his head.

"How are you, Tommy? Tommy, I don't usually look like this. I've been Christmas shopping," Roxas stated, explaining his disheveled appearance.

"Sir," the worker stated, coming up to Roxas. "I'm afraid we shall take the dog out."

"Oh, it's all right, Joe," Axel stated, waving him away. "It's my dog," he informed him, gesturing to Asta. "And my husband," he added belatedly. Roxas paused in what he was doing.

"Well, you might have mentioned me first on the billing."

"The dog's well-trained," Axel informed Joe, ignoring Roxas. "He'll behave himself."

"It might bite somebody." Joe stated nervously.

"No, he's all right," Axel stated, setting Asta onto the floor. "Look. Lie down!" Asta stared at Axel but remained standing. "Lie down!" Axel ordered again, pointing. Asta remained standing. A pause took place, Joe looking at Axel with an unimpressed expression and Roxas trying not to laugh. "Stand up!" he ordered. Asta sat. Axel grinned at Joe, and Joe bowed, leaving them in peace just as Dorothy returned from her phone call.

"Any luck?" Tommy asked.

"Yes, he's just around the corner."

"Your father?" Axel asked.

"No, MacCaulay. I'm just going to go and see him," she informed them, her glance falling on Roxas.

"Oh, uh, my husband, this is Dorothy Wynant." Axel said, introducing them.

"How do you do? I'm sorry we have to rush," Dorothy stated, taking Tommy by the arm.

"Say, we're stopping at the Normandie for a couple of weeks. Drop around, see us," Axel stated.

"Well, we'd love to. Thank you, good-bye," Dorothy said quickly, rushing off with Tommy to see what she could find out about her father.

"Sit down, sugar," Axel stated, pulling Roxas' chair out for him. "Oh, Leo?" he paged he waiter.

"Yes, sir?" Axel motioned to the table, and Leo called, "Two cocktails!" before Axel could say anything else.

"Pretty girl," Roxas stated as Axel sat across from him, draping Asta's leash over the bar dividing the sitting area from the actual bar itself.

"Yes, she's a very nice type," Axel agreed, moving his chair closer to the table.

"You've got types?" Roxas questioned.

"Only you, darling. Lanky blonds with wicked jaws. Leo?" Axel called. The waiter appeared and the red-head handed him the flower arrangement that had been placed in the middle of the table. "Compliments for this evening," he stated as Leo whisked it away.

"Who is she?" Roxas asked.

"Oh, darling, I was hoping I wouldn't have to answer that."

"Come on," he stated, folding his arms on the table and leaning forward.

"Well, Dorothy is really my daughter." He placed his right elbow on the table, leaning his head on his hand and Roxas mirrored his position, leaning his left elbow on the table. "You see, it was spring in Venice, and I was so young I didn't know what I was doing. We're all like that on my father's side."

"By the way, how is your father's side?" Roxas asked.

"Oh, it's much better, thanks. And yours?" Axel replied, folding his hands on top of the table.

"Say, how many drinks have you had?" Roxas asked, crossing his arms.

"This will make six martinis," he responded. They both leaned back in the chairs as Leo placed their martinis in front of them.

"All right, will you bring me five more martinis, Leo, and line them right up here," Roxas ordered, tapping the table.

"Yes, sir," Leo bowed as Axel looked at his husband, eyes widened in shock.

* * *

Roxas was still sprawled on the bed in their hotel room when Axel exited the bathroom with an icepack. He gently placed it on the blond's head, trying not to wake him. Roxas sighed, arm coming up to hold the icepack in place.

"What hit me?" he demanded.

"The last martini," Axel responded drily. "How about a little pick me up?" he teased.

"NO!" Roxas shouted and Axel moved out of hitting distance. "Oh, I can't lie here," Roxas stated, sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "I've got to get up and trim that darn Christmas tree." He tried to stand, losing his balance and falling back on the bed. "Say, what's the idea of pushing me?" he asked. Axel opened his mouth in disbelief - totally innocent of the accusations, for once. Before he could say anything the doorbell rang. "Who's that?"

"Probably Santa Claus," Axel stated, exiting the bedroom and heading for the door. He pulled it open, Wynant's lawyer on the other side.

"How are you?"

"Oh, hello MacCaulay. Come in." Axel greeted, shaking hands with the lawyer.

"Dorothy told me you were here. I was going to telephone, but -"

"That's all right," Axel cut him of. "Sit down, won't you? What are you drinking?" he asked as they headed for the sofa.

"Oh, nothing, thanks. Nothing." MacCaulay answered.

"That's a mistake," Axel informed him as MacCaulay sat on the couch.

"I wanted to see you. What's Mimi up to, Mr. Charles?" The lawyer asked as Axel grabbed a glass off the coffee table.

"Mimi? Oh, Dorothy's mother... Does she have to be up to something?" he asked as he poured liquor into a glass.

"She usually is," MacCaulay laughed. "Trying one way or another to get money out of Wynant. I wanted to find out if you were...uh, sleuthing for her."

"Oh, I haven't been a detective in four years." Axel stated, moving to sit in an wooden chair.

"Is that so?"

"Oh, my husband's father died and left him a narrow gauge railway, and a lumber mill, and...oh, several other things. I'm taking care of them. Say, what's the fuss about? Is he in hiding?" Axel inquired. MacCaulay shrugged.

"You know as much about it as I do. I haven't seen him in three months."

"No word at all?"

"He sends word through his secretary, Julia Wolf, when he wants money. I give it to her and she gives it to him." Axel nodded.

"That's still on, eh?" The phone rang and Axel leaned forward to pick up the receiver. "Excuse me."

"Hello?" Roxas asked, still in the bedroom. "Oh, just a minute." Axel handed the receiver to MacCaulay.

"For you." he stated.

"Is there a Mr. MacCaulay in the house?" Roxas asked as he entered the living room, icepack tied to his head. "Oh, pardon me," he added quietly, realizing that the man in question was on the phone. The blond moved to stand by Axel.

"Yes?" MacCaulay asked. "Oh, just a moment," he told the person on the phone.

"My husband." Axel stated with a flourish.

"How do you do?" Both MacCaulay and Roxas asked.

"Yes, what were you saying?" MacCaulay asked. Axel pointed to something on Roxas' chest and the blond looked down. The icepack slipped down; Roxas caught it and pushed it back on top of his head. "He is?" The red-head laughed silently, going to take a sip of his drink. Roxas hit him on the back of the head, knocking him into the glass. "Well, where is he now?" Axel raised his right arm, pretending to backhand the blond. "Oh, very well." Finishing his conversation, MacCaulay looked over at them and Roxas and Axel laughed, knowing they were caught.

"Excuse us," Axel stated, placing his right arm around Roxas' waist.

"He's back in town. Wynant." MacCaulay explained.

"Wynant?" Axel repeated.

"Yes, he's waiting for me now," he stated, pointing to the telephone receiver - which he still held in his hand. "Oh, forgive me, Mr. Charles," he said to Roxas, "but I've been so upset. You know, it's no joke working for a man like that, he's-" he cut off, realizing he was shaking the telephone receiver in his hand. "Well, I guess I'd better be off," he finished, hanging up the phone. "Good-bye."

"Good-bye," Axel stated.

"Good-bye," MacCaulay called again.

"Good-bye," Roxas stated.

"Merry Christmas!" MacCaulay called before shutting the door behind him.

"Same to you," Axel called as the door swung shut.

"The next person that says Merry Christmas to me, I'll kill him!" Roxas stated, adjusting his icepack and stepping onto the step-stool to begin trimming the tree.

~Review~


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